Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Nerudawas the pen name and, later, legal name of the Chilean poet-diplomat and politician Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto. He derived his pen name from the Czech poet Jan Neruda. Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971...
NationalityChilean
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth12 July 1904
CityParral, Chile
CountryChile
love-is lightning clash
Love is a clash of lightnings
autumn yellow goes-on
Que sigue pagando el otono con tanto dinero amarillo? What does autumn go on paying for with so much yellow money?
orange tree sunlight
Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas? How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?
love heart dark
I love you as one loves certain dark things.
night rocks oxygen
To harden the earth the rocks took charge: instantly they grew wings: the rocks that soared: the survivors flew up the lightning bolt, screamed in the night, a watermark, a violet sword, a meteor. The succulent sky had not only clouds, not only space smelling of oxygen, but an earthly stone flashing here and there changed into a dove, changed into a bell, into immensity, into a piercing wind: into a phosphorescent arrow, into salt of the sky.
blind pale lost
Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
writing humanity earth
On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.
happiness dog shameless
O merry, merry, merry, like only dogs know how to be happy and nothing more, with an absolute shameless nature.
writing goes-on dare
If suddenly you do not exist, If suddenly you are not living, I shall go on living. I do not dare, I do not dare to write it, if you die. I shall go on living.
hands world each-day
Hands make the world each day.
hands flight leap
When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?
hymns design typography
The Ardent Hymn that Unites Peoples.
dream land roots
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance climbed up through my conscious mind as if suddenly the roots I had left behind cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood - and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
pain pride blood
Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride?